


She Knits a Snare

by FandomBasedLife



Category: Kasabian
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blogging, Chicago (City), Complicated Relationships, F/M, Fashion & Couture, London, Musicians, Rock Stars, Romance, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomBasedLife/pseuds/FandomBasedLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's London. It's Fashion Week. It's Anna Mercer's Happy Place. But when a trip to England from Chicago to cover this renowned event leads to a chance encounter with a handsome English Rock Star, will Anna follow her heart or her head?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

————————  
_**It’s been two weeks and I think I’m finally figuring this city out… maybe. I miss Chicago, but London’s beginning to grow on me. I may need a TOPSHOP intervention and this is definitely an amazing city for street style. Women here are bold and incredibly creative with their fashion – and don’t get me started on the men! My gosh! It’s a whole new world out here, ladies!** _  
————————__

“Almond milk latte?”

Anna looked up from her laptop and stopped typing. Her second latte of the day was ready. She lowered her screen and stood, quickly navigating her way through the small café and smiling at her gorgeous barista as she accepted the hot mug. He winked as he handed it to her and she felt herself blush.

Back at her seat, she tilted her screen up again, reading over her post so far. She made a few edits and uploaded some photos she had taken near Trafalgar Square the day before.

The small bell attached to the café door jingled, and Anna looked up again just in time to see a waif-like blonde breeze in and plant a kiss directly on her barista’s mouth. She sighed, her eyes quickly moving back to her computer screen. Different city, same shit. She brushed a stray piece of jet black hair from her cheek, smoothing it back into place, her heavy bangles sliding down her wrist as she did so, the sound they made earning her an annoyed look from the elderly lady the next table over. Anna made a valiant effort not to roll her eyes and continued typing, making sure her long, gold-coated nails clicked extra loudly against the keys.

————————  
_**A whole new world, and yet it’s the same in many ways. Jerks are still jerks, even if they’re wearing Burberry. I’ll leave it at that.**  
————————_

She smirked at the screen, added some tags and hit  _Publish_. The post going live on  _Looks and Lattes_ , the blog she’d started 2 years ago on a whim, but had grown into much more since then and was, in fact, the reason she now found herself in London. She had been flown into town to cover London Fashion Week for NYLON magazine. She’d been over the moon when she’d received the offer two months ago. Their usual fashion week contributor had pulled out last minute and as a regular contributor to their online magazine, she’d been approached as a quick replacement. She’d jumped at the chance and had decided to sublet her apartment in Chicago for two months so she could spend a little extra time exploring Europe when the madness of LFW was over. That madness would officially begin tonight as she was scheduled to attend the first of many parties she would have to attend over the next five days. Tonight’s was the opening gala at Somerset House, and if she was going to be there on time and looking her best, she would have to down this coffee and finish her emails immediately.

Ten minutes later she had done just that, and slinging her oversized bag over her arm, she strode out of the shop, making a point not to look at the barista (no longer hers) as she passed by. Out on the streets once more she savoured the damp London air, still a novelty despite the havoc it wreaked on her signature angled bob. As she made her way toward The Wellington – an adorable boutique hotel NYLON had put her up in for the week, she saw a striking duo chatting outside of the shop two doors down. She quickly fished into her bag for her camera and headed towards them.

“Excuse me, hi” she said, smiling at the leggy brunette and her mop-haired companion. She was struck as he turned toward her – he was quite handsome up close, his features pointed, his jawline strong beneath a dark, well-groomed beard. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses but somehow felt nervous under his gaze anyhow. The woman he was with raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“My name is Anna,” she continued, “I’m covering Fashion Week for NYLON Magazine – I was hoping I could snap a photo of each of you for Street Style?”

The icy brunette’s face suddenly lit up. “Oh of course hun!” she said, tossing her hair over one shoulder as though she had been waiting for this moment all day. Anna cringed internally at the condescension, but she was used to it by now. The woman strutted toward the street and struck an exaggerated pose. By now, Anna had seen it all – she was no stranger to women like this, and she brought the camera to her face without missing a beat, snapping a couple shots and smiling with encouragement. Dropping the camera she turned to the silent character to her left.

“Would you mind if I shot you as well? That jacket is fantastic,” she said, nodding at the navy blue military coat that hung over his slender shoulders. He shrugged and stepped forward, taking the woman’s place, shoving his hands in the jacket’s pockets and tilting his head slightly to one side. She fought the urge to smile as she brought the camera back to her face. He looked gorgeous in the lense. She guessed he had to be at least 6’3”, his slim frame exaggerated by tight black trousers, his feet in a pair of stunning pointed boots that looked vintage. She took a few shots, even though she knew the first one had been perfect – it was a good excuse to examine this bizarre English creature further. His hair was what had caught her eye from a block away. She’d never quite seen anything like it. Chestnut brown, completely chaotic and yet structured at the same time – it was similar to what she’d seen of actor Russell Brand, on a smaller, more styled level.

“Thanks so much,” she said, replacing her lens cap and slipping her camera back in her back, then grabbing her iphone. “Can I get your names?”

“Leslie ,” the woman said quickly. “Leslie with an I-E, of course.”

“Of course,” Anna agreed dryly. Noticing it bring a smirk to the face of the man. “And  _your_  name?”

Before he could open his mouth, his brazen companion answered for him.

“Well that’s Sergio of course!” she laughed, clearly enjoying some sort of joke with herself.

“Of course,” Anna repeated, slightly disappointed that he hadn’t spoken for himself. She typed the names into her phone, noting the date and the outfits, though she was sure she didn’t need a reminder for this particular sighting. She thanked them, and turned to go.

“Oi, wait a minute.” He spoke. His voice softer than she had imagined it would be. She turned back. “Do I get to take a picture of you then?”

She laughed. “What for?”

“For my fashion blog.”

“You have a fashion blog?”

“I’m going to start one,” he replied.

Leslie laughed loudly. Anna knew he didn’t have a blog and she knew he wasn’t starting one, but, if only to annoy Leslie, she let him take a photo of her with his phone.

“That’s fab,” he said, and he seemed oddly genuine. Anna smiled and thanked them again, giving a small wave before turning and continuing on toward her hotel. She glanced over her shoulder and caught Sergio watching her departure. She quickly turned her focus back to the sidewalk ahead of her, rushing back to the hotel to change and freshen up for the night ahead.

****

Standing in front of the full mirror affixed to the back of her tiny hotel room’s bathroom door, Anna gave herself a final once over. She was finally getting the chance to wear the Ekaterina Kukhareva dress she’d fallen in love with last year. It was a full length, long sleeved, delicate knit masterpiece in a stunning emerald green. The neckline plunged almost to her navel, each side just covering her small bust. The skirt was a heavier knit with a high belt that cinched in her narrow waist before cascading to the floor over her black Prada pumps, taking her natural 5’7” to at least 5’10”. Her black bob had been sprayed and set into place, her eyes smoky, her lips bare. She looked good and she smiled, knowing it.

A phone call to the front desk secured her a black taxicab and in just under 20 minutes a valet was helping her step out of the car at the Somerset House. She posed expertly against the media wall on the way inside, flashbulbs nearly blinding her. After giving her name and obtaining her media badge, which she chose to loop around the delicate chain of her purse rather than wear around her neck, she stepped into the chatter and bustle of the Lightwells and Deadhouse – the space in which the Gala was being held this year. She loved the atmosphere – long stone hallways with shadowy nooks and crannies made it feel like you had stepped back in time – much like most of London. She searched the crowd for familiar faces, noting several publicists and models she’d seen before. Suddenly a frantically waving hand caught her attention, she squinted in the dim lighting to find that the hand belonged to Sophie, a fellow fashion blogger and friend that she’d become close with over the past year. They’d met at several fashion events in the US but shared emails often, sometimes daily. Sophie lived in London and this was the first time they’d seen each other on her continent. She practically squealed with delight as Anna reached her, and she pulled her in for a hug, squeezing her and kissing both her cheeks before releasing her and holding her at arms length.

“The dress!” she cried. “It’s out of the closet!”

Anna laughed and nodded. “Finally!”

“Oh darling, it’s ridiculous. You look ten times fitter than all the models in this place!”

“Oh please,” Anna laughed. “Look in the mirror why don’t you.” She motioned for Sophie to give her a spin and her friend happily obliged, blonde waves spilling over her shoulders as she showed off the white shift dress with a gold beaded overlay. “Temperly London?”

Sophie nodded. “Obviously – you know I’m obsessed. They really need to start sending me freebies. They know me by name in the shops!”

“I’m amazed it hasn’t happened yet,” Anna replied, smiling at her friend. “I mean –“

“Hold on! Shut up!” Sophie said, interrupting her. “I don’t want to talk about this!” Sophie was always a bit excitable, but even for her, this sudden outburst was a bit much. “I want to talk about how the hell you’ve only been in London two weeks and yet you’re already dating one of the biggest Rock Stars in town! Moreso – I want to know why the hell you’ve kept it from me, you slag!”

Anna’s eyebrows knit in confusion.“What are you talking about? I’m not dating anyone! I’ve barely met anyone!” Sophie seemed to be ignoring her as she scrolled furiously through her phone. “Sophie! What are you talking about?”

“Well can you tell me why Serge Pizzorno is posting photos of you on his instagram?” she replied, shoving her phone in Anna’s face. “You’ve got some explaining to do!”

Anna’s pale blue eyes grew wide as she recognized the photo of herself from this afternoon near her café. Above the photo, was the username  **kasabianofficial**  and beneath it, the caption.

**_Met the future Missus today. #LadyPizzorno_ **


	2. Chapter 2

“Well? Give us the details!” Sophie pressed, still holding her phone in the air.

“There are no details! I just met him this afternoon!” Anna paused. “Kasabian? The band Kasabian? He’s in that band?” Her head spun. She’d heard the band before, quite a bit actually, an ex had been a fan years ago but she had no idea what they looked like. That Leslie woman’s laughter and mocking tone now made perfect sense. She smacked her hand against her forehead and left it there. “I’m an idiot. Oh my God, he must have thought I was so stupid.”

“Clearly not, you daft cow,” Sophie hissed. “Are you telling me you met Sergio Pizzorno on the street and had no idea who he was?”

“I shot him for street style!”

“You what!?” Sophie’s eyes bulged before she burst out laughing. “Oh wow, he must have thought you a precious little lamb!”

“Oh Soph… I feel ill.”

“Vodka will help, Love,” Sophie giggled, waving over a cocktail server with a tray of martinis and grabbing a glass to pass to Anna.

“Do you know how many girls on this continent would give their right arm to meet Serge? You bloody Americans have it so easy.”

Anna took a big sip of her cocktail, collecting her wits. She took a breath and exhaled. This was a work event, not a vacation, and while tonight was not something she necessarily had to report on, she was still representing NYLON and her time would be better spent networking than gossiping about a bizarre social media joke. She spotted another fashion blogger she’d met several times and waved her over, slipping back into professional mode and suppressing the odd stirring in her stomach she felt when remembering the tall, quiet, rock star she’d accidentally met in the afternoon.

An hour went by and Anna had chatted with the appropriate characters and made notes of who was wearing whom and earned herself invitations to even more shows and after parties. She was sure she wouldn’t sleep this week if she didn’t get back to her hotel and rest. She was contemplating slipping out quietly when Sophie grabbed her hand.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Anna said, sighing. “I’ve got full day tomorrow.”

“Oh sod off,” Sophie laughed. “We’re not going home. It’s barely midnight. I’ve got the inside scoop on an exclusive party happening in Soho. Tony’s invited us along.” She pointed to a very gorgeous and very flamboyant blonde man a few feet away and he waved, hearing is name, his impossibly white teeth glistening in the dim light. “He’s the boyfriend of some A&R rep at Universal Music and apparently a long-time reader of my blog. He says we look fabulous and he wants to show us off at this thing.”

Anna began to protest but Sophie was having none of it.

“Doesn’t NYLON cover fashion  _and_  music?” she reasoned. “Wouldn’t your editors be impressed if you happened to stop in at a private record release party in Soho while you were in town?”

Anna sighed yet again. Sophie was manipulative beyond all reason, but she had a point. After being introduced properly to Tony, she and Sophie followed him out of the Somerset and into another black taxi.

“So who is the release party for?” Anna asked as the cab made it’s way through the London streets at a speed she was not quite comfortable with.

“Oh goodness knows, honey,” Tony drawled. “Some new indie up-and-comers with drainpipe trousers and good haircuts. The Boxcars… The Boxers… The Somethings. Who knows what they’re called. Milo says they’re the next Arctic Monkeys!” He gushed at his lovers’ name, a toothy grin illuminating the darkness yet again.

When they pulled up outside the venue, Anna was grateful to see a red carpet and a velvet rope – she had worried her outfit would be a bit much for some rock show, but this looked safe. Gathering the folds of green fabric, she stepped out of the cab and followed Sophie and Tony, who made his way quickly towards a gorgeous chocolate-skinned woman with a headset and a clipboard.

“I brought new friends!” he said, kissing both of the woman’s cheeks as she smiled widely. “Sophie, Anna, meet Rhea.”

Rhea greeted each of the girls warmly. “A friend of Tony and Milo’s is always a friend of ours,” she said before ushering them into the impressive building. “The band’s about to take the stage, you’re just in time.”

 The inside was just as impressive, a large room with exposed brick walls and elegant mismatched chandeliers casting a golden glow on the partygoers below. The lounge was full of important looking men with gorgeous women on their arms, shaggy haired men that seemed as though they hadn’t showered in a few days, and impeccably dressed servers with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres making their rounds. Sophie wasted no time grabbing two flutes, passing one to Anna with a sly grin.

Anna had to admit, while fashion had become her life, she had always been a rock and roller at heart. She heard a familiar Cure song floating from the speakers and smiled. Unfortunately the song was cut off too soon as a sharp-dressed, balding man took to the stage at the far side of the room and people began to turn their attention there.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I want to thank you so much for being here tonight. I know there are a few other events happening in the city at the moment,” he rolled his eyes dramatically as the audience chuckled. “Tonight is the culmination of a lot of hard work from a group of exceptionally talented young lads from Manchester.”

A few hoots and whistles from the crowd, and more collective chuckling.

“When I first saw them I knew they were going places and I’m so pleased to be here tonight as they celebrate the release of their first record with Universal Music. Please welcome to the stage, The Basics!”

Anna and Sophie looked at Tony, bemused as the audience cheered. He shrugged.

“It started with a B! Whaat? I’m not a good listener!”

Anna laughed and turned her attention back to the stage where a group of handsome, very young, men were launching into their first song. It was catchy, straight ahead rock and roll, and reminded her of her high school playlists, which were full of bands like The Strokes, The Hives, and Kaiser Chiefs. She bopped her head in time with the music as Sophie danced beside her.

“They’re wicked!” she shouted over the guitars and Anna smiled and nodded, making note of their band name in her phone

“Thanks!” the singer said coolly with a toss of his hair. “We are so happy to be here tonight. This record has been a long time in the making and we can’t wait to release it and to hit the road with the boys that helped us produce this thing - a band we’ve respected and admired for ages. Thanks to Serge and Tom – can’t wait to hit the road with you brothers!”

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, and all seemed to be looking towards the front of the stage. Anna froze as she saw a long arm wave a peace-sign in gratitude. The arm was clothed in a very familiar navy blue jacket sleeve and hovered over a very familiar haircut. She grabbed Sophie’s arm.

“Did you know?” she hissed, eyes wide.

“Of course I didn’t know!” Sophie cried, but this is genius! The universe is bringing you together again!”

As if on cue, the familiar haircut turned and she saw his face, smiling to greet someone behind him. Before she could look away his eyes locked with hers and his smile grew wider. She smiled back.

“Fuck,” she swore through her grin.

“Excellent!” Sophie cried at the same time.

The band began playing their second song and instead of turning his attention back to them, he began crossing the room in the direction of the girls, Tony’s attention long since lost to a handsome man a few feet away.

Her pulse quickened as he came closer, weaving between guests with ease before finally arriving right in front of her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, grinning. “Anna, wasn’t it?” He extended a hand toward her.

She nodded, placing her hand in his, feeling the metal of his rings against her skin as his long fingers wrapped around hers. This was the first time she’d seen him without sunglasses and his eyes were lighter than she had imagined. She couldn’t tell the colour exactly, and she looked away from them quickly as she felt she’d been staring too long.

“Yes, “ she finally responded to his question. “I have to apologize. I didn’t realize who you were when we met. I hope I didn’t insult you.”

He laughed. “I’m not that famous - especially not in America.” He paused, smiling slightly, “To be honest, it was nice.”

She looked back into his eyes again and felt her cheeks beginning to grow warm. “Oh! This is Sophie!” she said, quickly diverting attention away from herself.

“Loved the last record,” Sophie smiled, shaking Sergio’s hand firmly. The two chatted for a moment while Anna looked on, quietly observing the shadows cast on his features, his cheekbones seeming more pronounced, his nose more angular. She felt nervous in a way she hadn’t in some time. She was used to talking to people, to mingling and brushing shoulders with important and beautiful people. This one, however, made her stomach turn in a way not even a roomful of male models hadn’t in a very long time. He turned back to her and she felt as though she’d been caught red-handed.

“Anna, I must say, that dress is beautiful.” he said.

“Thank you.” She blushed fully this time. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to wear it for awhile.”

“Well I feel very lucky to run into you on the night you finally did.”

He smiled and she blushed a deeper crimson, at a loss for words. Luckily, a server came by with a tray of drinks before she could look too ridiculous. She eagerly took a glass of sparkling wine and took a big sip as her companions followed suit. Sergio held his glass out to the girls for a toast.

“To happy accidents,” he said, and his eyes locked with Anna’s in a way that both excited and terrified her.

The group of three turned their attention back to the band on stage and Sergio made no move to return to the friends he had left in the front row. He stood next to Anna, every now and again bumping into her gently as people pushed through the crowd nearby. Each time she felt his body brush against hers she felt her skin tingle beneath it, anxiety building in her chest that she could not explain, nor push away. She felt a bizarre urge to slip her hand into his and a sort of schoolgirl shyness at his nearness.

“Where in America do you live?” he said, his breath on her ear as he moved closer to be heard above the band.

“Chicago,” she answered.

“And how long do we have you?”

“I go back in 7 weeks. I wanted to travel around a bit after fashion week is over.”

“A wise choice. I imagine you’ll be at a lot of the shows and parties this week?”

She nodded, rolling her eyes at the thought of her hectic schedule. He asked which events she was looking forward to and she took her phone out of her clutch, pulling up her schedule and scrolling through it as he leaned in even closer, putting his hand gently on the small of her back as he peered at the screen and nodded.

“I reckon we’ll be seeing each other quite a bit,” he grinned, his face now so close to hers that she felt a lump forming in her throat.

“Oh?” It was all she could manage to say.

“Yeh. I think I’ll quite like that.” His hand still rested on her lower back and she could feel heat radiating around it. She was under some sort of spell as he gazed down at her, his eyes burning into hers intensely. “You should give me your mobile number so we can coordinate our outfits.”

Anna laughed, his joke breaking her out of her own head at last. “God forbid we wore the same dress to Stella McCartney,” she joked, tucking her hair behind one ear.

“You think it’s funny, but I may look better than you in a frock and you’ll be sorry.” He pulled out his phone and opened a new contact, handing it to her. “Just in case.”

She smiled as she entered her details into his phone, finding the whole scenario utterly ridiculous as she handed it back to him. She took the last sip of her glass of champagne and sighed.

“I really should get back to my hotel,” she said. “I have a coffee meeting in the morning and a busy week ahead. Starting it off with a late night is not smart.”

He looked almost disappointed, but smiled. “May I walk you to a cab?”

She nodded, and grabbed Sophie to tell her she was on her way. Sophie squeezed her in a hug, getting close to her ear.

“Are you taking him home with you?” she hissed excitedly.

“Jesus, Soph! No! He’s walking me to a cab!”

Sophie peered over Anna’s shoulder, where Sergio had begun chatting to someone else. “Well you should take him home. I would take him home.”

“I love you – but I don’t know this person.”

“Did I see you giving him your mobile?”

“Yes.”

“So you will be taking him home at some point then, yes?”

“Sophie!”

“All set?” Sergio interrupted the girls, placing his hand yet again on Anna’s back, an action not unnoticed by Sophie who raised her eyebrows suggestively at Anna.

“Oh she’s set.”

Sergio laughed, and he lead Anna toward the exit as she stealthily gave Sophie the finger behind her back.

“Love you, dahling!” Sophie drawled, calling after them. “Ring me tomorrow!”

Moments later, Anna and Sergio emerged into the damp London night and proceeded towards the line of black cabs at the curb.

“Well it was nice to see you again,” Anna said casually, unsure of what to do and painfully aware of her twisting stomach and clammy palms. She awkwardly opened her arms for a hug and was relieved when he wrapped his arms around her in return. She began to pull away but he held her close. She could feel the wiry hair of his beard against her cheek as his mouth came deliciously close to her ear again.

“I will see you again soon, Anna,” he said softly before planting a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth, pulling away and opening a cab door for her before she had a moment to react. She gathered the skirt of her dress and piled herself and it into the cab almost robotically. Serge shut the door behind her and tapped the roof of the cab twice, his rings making a sharp rapping sound.

“Where to?” the driver asked, snapping her back to the moment.

“Oh, um – The Wellington,” she mumbled back, staring out the window at Serge as the driver pulled away; his hand raised in farewell wave. As she watched him turn and head back into the party she spun back in her seat, melting against the worn leather. She touched her hand to the place he had left his kiss, still feeling the weight of his lips there. She closed her eyes, head spinning with champagne and a newly discovered lust.

 _I’m in trouble_ , she thought to herself as the cab sped through the London streets.


	3. Chapter 3

It was day three of Fashion Week and Anna was at her second show of the afternoon. It wasn’t one she had been particularly looking forward to and her eyes drifted around the audience looking, yet again, for that familiar hairstyle. She hadn’t seen or heard from Sergio since the night of the opening gala and she was irritated that she’d somehow let him ruin what should have been an incredible week for her. No matter how fantastic the clothes or the event, she kept finding herself somehow disappointed that she hadn’t encountered him. She was furious with herself; after all, what had she expected exactly? He was a musician, a famous one at that, and he was too good looking to be taken seriously.

Sophie yawned beside her. “I miss the days you could sneak out of shows without people noticing,” she whispered. Once upon a time that would have been easy to do, but now with their rising status as press, they had moved from the nosebleeds to the second row, just behind the buyers and celebrities.

“Yes, but then we wouldn’t get the good gift bags.” Anna smirked, thinking of the collection of beauty products and stacks of lookbooks that were already taking over the surfaces in her hotel room.

“Touché.”

“Do you have time for lunch after this one?” Sophie whispered, politely clapping without enthusiasm as the designer emerged onto the runway flanked by two lanky models.

“God yes. I’m starving and I don’t have another show until four.”

After being herded out of the show and maneuvering their way through the bustling crowds they managed to find a pub nearby that wasn’t overflowing with fashion week clientele.

“Most of that lot wouldn’t be caught dead at a lowly pub for lunch,” Sophie remarked, rolling her eyes. “No offense,” she added, flashing a smile at the barman, who shrugged his indifference.

They each ordered a pint and a garden salad, hoping the latter would cancel out the former, and took to their phones to check emails and social media. Anna took a pull from her lager, raising an eyebrow at her screen. There seemed to be an oddly high number of twitter notifications. She tapped the app, opening her twitter feed and swiping to her interactions.

_OMG @annamercer you’re so lucky! RT @UKgossip Spotted at LFW: @kasabianofficial ’s Serge steps out with his new flame_

Anna slammed her pint down on the bar harder than she intended to. She opened the link at the end of the tweet and a photo of her and Serge in front of a black cab filled her screen. She hadn’t even noticed the photographers that night and yet here it was - his lips nearly on hers, his arms around her waist.

“What?” Sophie asked, startled.

Anna scrolled through the tweets without answering. Some were mean. _Lots_  of them were mean.

_Hey @annamercer - go back to America, you skinny slag!_

_As if Serge is with this @annamercer person. No way is she good enough for him. #gross_

“Anna! What on earth?”

Anna passed Sophie her phone, the colour gone from her face.

“What’s all this then?” Sophie scrolled through then clicked to the image. “Wait what!? This is bloody brilliant!”

“A million hate tweets is brilliant?” Anna asked, her voice quiet, her face dark.

“Are you kidding? Imagine your blog traffic right now.”

“Oh God,” Anna put her hand to her temple. “I’m afraid to check my email.”

“You just hit the jackpot, babe!” Sophie handed Anna’s phone back to her as their salads hit the bar. “Lunch is on you!”

“I haven’t even heard from him. It’s not true.” Anna said, poking a fork at her lunch.

“Do I sense disappointment there? Are we keen on Sir Pizzorno?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Anna said, taking a bite of her salad in an attempt to avoid further comment.

“Ridiculous is my middle name, love.” Sophie smiled ruefully.

***

Show four was ending and Anna was dying to escape for her tiny hotel. She needed a nap before the night’s parties. As she wiggled her way through the crowds, she felt a hand grab her arm. Spinning quickly, she was surprised to find a smiling Sergio.

“Anna! At last!”

“Hi,” she said curtly, glancing around to see if anyone was looking or taking photos.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch, it’s been crazy.”

“No problem.” She avoided his eyes taking her arm back from him and running her hand through her hair. “I should be off. Nice to run into you.”

“Are you upset with me?” He asked, not letting her go just yet.

Anna exhaled sharply, finally meeting his gaze. “I just don’t appreciate getting harassed by the public at large for something that’s not even actually happening.”

“What are you on about?”

He appeared bemused which only added to her irritation. She dug in her small bag for her phone, pulling up the tweets and handing it to him, digging her fingernails into her palm as she watched him read, the smirk on his face fading as he scrolled.

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly, looking up from the screen.

 _Hazel._  His eyes were hazel - she could finally see. In fact, they were mostly green, a striking shade she couldn’t remember seeing before.

“It’s fine,” she said, a touch too much vinegar in her voice. “It’s just not very good for me professionally – all this nonsense drawing attention for the wrong reasons.”

“Well then, I suppose there’s only one thing to do,” he said solemnly.

“Yeah,” she sighed. She felt something akin to disappointment twisting in her stomach but forced an apologetic smile.

“We’ll just have to make it honest.”

“What?” Anna’s eyes narrowed.

“We’ll have to make good on it. Are you going to the GStar Raw party tonight?”

“Um, I had planned to, yes.”

“Well then.” He smiled. “You’ll be my date. Officially.”

Anna stared at him incredulously. He had the look of a mischievous child.   
“Pardon?”

“Will you -” he grabbed her clenched fist, prying it open and placing her palm in his. “do me the honor of accompanying me to the GStar Raw party this evening?”

“I… uh…” her face grew warm as she stuttered.

“Bear in mind,” he continued in a mocking tone. “You will most definitely be photographed with me – and I will probably hold your hand.”

Anna’s brow creased slightly and she tilted her head to one side. Was this a joke? Was he just having a bit of fun at her expense?

“Seriously, Anna.” It was as if he’d read her mind. “I would like to take you out. More than once even. As often as you’ll allow, really.”

She tried to suppress the smile that threatened to cross her red lips. Here it was, a high profile European fling being dangled before her in a handsome, well dressed, rock and roll package. She could say no – the rumor mill would die down quickly and she could return to life as it normally was, or she could take a chance – enjoy a night or two on the arm of an English celebrity, receive some more hate mail and potentially tarnish her reputation. He squeezed her hand gently. She liked the way it felt.

“I’m staying at the Wellington,” she said at last. “Pick me up at 9? I need a nap.”

His hazel eyes twinkled as his smile grew and he bent his head to plant a kiss on the back of her hand.

“I shall see you then, my dear.”

With that, he spun and disappeared back into the crowd from whence he came, leaving Anna standing still in disbelief.


	4. Chapter 4

Anna rolled over in the small bed of her hotel room, checking the clock on her iPhone for what felt like the hundredth time. Her attempt at a nap was proving futile as she took a mental inventory of every item of clothing she had with her in London and tried to plan an outfit for the night ahead, imagining various scenarios of how this alleged “date” might play out. She switched on the bedside lamp. Her efforts to sleep were clearly in vain. Sighing, she pushed the comforter aside, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She had two hours until Sergio was due to collect her and she hated being ready early. Too much time to twiddle her thumbs drove her mad.

She crossed the small room to the desk in the corner, sitting down and flipping her laptop open. Her fingers hovered over the keys as she pursed her lips; the cursor blinking in the search bar. She really wanted to type his name. She wanted to research him, to know what she was getting into, to look at a thousand pictures of him and study his face in detail. Her fingers settled on the keys, but she did not type. It seemed unfair to take advantage of the world of facts and rumors at her fingertips. Instead, she clicked through to Wordpress, logging into the back-end of her blog and beginning to go through the comments awaiting moderation, many of which echoed the cruel sentiments being thrown around via Twitter. She debated releasing some sort of statement, but now that they were  _actually_  going out tonight she wasn’t sure what she could write. Her only true concern was that her editors at NYLON would have something to say about it all. She had sent in the majority of her day 3 coverage before lying down, but she felt compelled to open another email now, typing quickly, her fingers a flurry, nails clicking against keys.

_Hi Roslyn,_

_Hope my day 3 covreage has found you well. I wanted to drop you a little note in regards to some recent attention I’ve received online._

_Photographs of myself and Sergio Pizzorno of Kasabian have been circulating. They were innocent shots of him walking me to a taxi outside an event a few days ago but, of course, people love to weave stories. In any case, he has since asked me to attend tonight’s G-Star Raw event with him. I wanted to make you aware of this, and to assure you that I am here first and foremost for NYLON and have no intention of letting anything personal interfere with that._

_I have accepted Sergio’s offer as the G-Star party was already a part of my event itinerary, but will make sure to provide you with quality coverage and content before anything else._

_Of course, should you feel that this is a conflict of interests in any way I will absolutely refrain from further contact._

_Look forward to speaking soon._

_Best, Anna_

She hit send and sat back in her seat, waiting for the whoosh of the airplane sound effect before getting up and heading toward the washroom, turning the water on and undressing as the small room filled with steam.

She took a longer shower than normal, taking the time to carefully shave her legs and thoroughly condition her hair. When she was done she slathered ample amounts of lemon and vanilla scented lotion onto her pale skin, throwing on the hotel’s robe and padding back into the room toward the small closet. She flipped through the dresses that hung there, carefully pressed, dismissing anything too flashy. G-Star was a denim brand after all. She pulled out a long-sleeved mini dress made of a black, buttery leather, and smiled wickedly. This dress made her look and feel incredible. If there was a dress made to wear on a date with a Rock Star, this was the one. She lay it carefully on the bed before returning to the washroom to dry her hair and apply her makeup.

As she slid the dress on twenty minutes later she heard her laptop ping the notification of a new email. She grabbed her black Jeffrey Campbell boots, sitting at the desk so she could lace them up as she checked her inbox. She double-clicked the most recent message – a response from Roslyn. Her stomach turned slightly as it opened on her screen.

_Anna,_

_I appreciate you reaching out to acknowledge this. It was brought to my attention earlier today. The work you have done for us so far in London has been wonderful, and in my opinion if that doesn’t change, I have no problem with you enjoying yourself while you’re there._

_We love Kasabian and, in truth, if this is raising your profile as it seems to be, it’s a win for us all. Be smart, be safe, and have a great time tonight._

_Cheers,  
Roz_

Anna breathed a sigh of relief and finished tying her boots as her phone lit up on the desk beside her, screen flashing an unknown UK number. She smiled as she picked it up, quite certain who it would be.

“Hello?”

“Good Evening, Anna.”

She couldn’t help the blush that crept into her cheeks at the the sound of his voice.

“Are you downstairs?” she asked.

“I am indeed,” he replied. “May I come up to fetch you? The lovely chap here at the desk won’t give me your room number.”

“Um… sure.” Anna jumped up, frantically looking around for items that should be put away. “I’m in room 304.”

“I’ll see you in a minute.”

She hung up the phone and dashed to the bed, making it as quickly as she could and throwing the discarded clothes that had been on top of it into the closet. Next, she flew into the bathroom, grabbing handfuls of tubes and powders and throwing them into her cosmetics bag. As she tossed it under the sink she heard a rapping at the door. She looked in the mirror, smoothing her hair with both hands and pressing her lips together, ensuring her deep red lipstick was evenly spread. She smiled at herself, making sure it hadn’t transferred to her teeth and crossed back into the room, quickly tugging her dress into place before opening the door.

Sergio stood in the hallway with a cheesy grin, a beautiful bouquet of lilies in his outstretched hand.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to carry these around all night.” He looked her up and down. “Jesus. You look amazing.”

She blushed, accepting the flowers and ushering him into the room. “Thank you so much. Let me see if there’s anything I can put these in.” She scanned the room for anything remotely vase-like, spotting a tall jar of decorative soaps on the bathroom counter.

She watched him move about the room as she removed the soaps, rinsing the jar and filling it with lukewarm water. His tall frame was hugged by a dark wool jacket with an upturned collar. His dark jeans were tight against his impossibly long legs and he tapped a black suede boot against the hardwood as he examined a piece of art on the wall. His profile was exquisite; his features angular beneath his shaggy hair.

“What’s this then? Picasso?” he nodded at the canvas in front of him, which was printed with a stock photograph of a London Underground sign.

“Oh I think so!” She laughed, joining him in the room and setting the jar of lilies on the desk next to her computer. “I really feel like I’m getting an authentic European experience here.”

“Those fit in just right,” he said quietly, suddenly behind her with his hand on her lower back. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized how close he was and how alone they were. He smelled like sandalwood and tea tree oil shampoo. She kept her hands firmly planted on the back of the chair, afraid to let go; afraid of what they’d do if she did.

“We should go!” she said with too much enthusiasm as she spun and walked past him without meeting his eyes. She grabbed her clutch from the bedside table and tossed her phone inside.

“Right. The car’s downstairs – are you going to be okay without a jacket?” He eyed her bare legs with a mix of concern and admiration. She laughed.

“Suffer for style.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m used to it.”

The elevator ride was excruciating, the air thick with innuendo as they made small talk about the shows they’d seen so far. She liked him. He was a gentleman. He let her out of the elevator ahead of him, held the hotel door for her and opened the door of the black town car that waited for them, letting her in before sliding next to her on the plush backseat. His knee touched hers as the driver pulled into traffic and she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her body. He didn’t move away and she felt like a teenager on a first date at the cinema – when after inching closer and closer your arms would finally touch on the armrest and you would see fireworks in the darkness. Anna smiled, looking out the window as London flew by.

“So it might be a bit hectic tonight.” Serge ran a hand through his expertly tousled hair, his heavy silver bracelets sliding together on his slender wrist. “I did the last fall/winter campaign with G-Star so I’ll probably have to do some photo ops and other nonsense.”

“That’s fine.” She turned back to face him. “I know my way around a fashion party by myself. I’ve got to snap some shots and take notes for the magazine anyhow.”

“See? I knew you’d be the perfect date.” He grinned at her in the darkness, the lights of the city flashing across his handsome face. Anna had to look away for fear of staring. She laughed and prayed they would arrive at their destination soon. She was desperate for a cocktail to calm her nerves.

They arrived at the store to a flurry of flashbulbs. There were only a few photographers manning the media wall at the entrance but they came to life the moment they saw Serge.

“Serge! Is this your new missus?”

“This is Miss Anna Mercer,” Serge responded matter-of-factly, taking Anna’s hand in his. He didn’t elaborate, but gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

The store was crowded when they entered, the air filled with chatter and low, ambient music. Serge didn’t let go of her hand as they weaved through the room toward a small pop-up bar in the corner. Either he sensed her nerves or he was as eager to grab a drink as she was. Either way, she was relieved at his trajectory and happily accepted the glass of sparkling wine he ordered for her.

“To our first date,” he said, looking at her intensely over the neck of his beer bottle. Anna tapped her glass against his, returning his gaze as the cool bubbles met her lips.

“Shall we hurry up and get our duties out of the way so we can actually enjoy ourselves then?”

Anna nodded her agreement, eyes searching the room for familiar faces. “I assume you know Jos Van Tilburg?” she said, naming the brand’s founder. “I’d love to meet him if he’s here.”

“Yeh actually. He’s just over there.” He waved across the room and she saw Jos, a grinning man with a shaved head that she recognized from photos in fashion magazines, wave back and head in their direction.

Sergio provided the introduction and the three chatted easily for awhile, Anna getting valuable notes on the new season’s pieces without even having to ask.

“Anna my dear, would you mind terribly if I stole Serge away for a couple photo ops?” Jos asked politely.

“Of course not! I’d love to have a look around at the new collection and I should take a few party snaps while I’m here anyhow.”

Sergio leaned in, leaving a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I won’t be long,” he whispered before following Jos across the store. She watched him go, feeling any resistance she thought she may have had melt away as she grabbed another glass of champagne. She wanted him. It was no longer a question, but a fact.

—

Twenty minutes later Anna was on her third drink as she chatted about denim washes with another writer. She grabbed a pair of jeans from the rack in front of her and felt two arms slip around her waist and coarse facial hair brush softly against her neck.

“That dress is driving me mental,” Sergio hissed, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I have been staring at you like a creeper since Jos took me away.”

Anna smiled, leaning back against him, enjoying the way her body felt against his as he wound his arms tighter around her.

“I’m glad you approve,” she said dryly, draining her glass.

“Did you get your work done?”

“Mmm hmm.” She played with his bracelets with her free hand, reveling in the sense of familiarity she felt in his arms.

“Do you want to sneak out of here? I’d love to tuck away with you in a dark corner of a pub without all of this.” He spun his hand dramatically and she laughed.

“I’d like that very much,” she said softly, hating the feeling of his arms letting her go.

Hand in hand they slipped out of the store relatively unnoticed, finding their way to the car Serge had ordered. They whispered to each other in the back seat, shoulders and thighs pressed together, hands on each other’s knees, not yet ready to travel anywhere more daring. He took her to a divey little pub where, for the first time, no one paid them much attention. The few men that lined the dark wooden bar were more interested in the replay of the day’s Premiere League match, the plasma screens it played on were the only things in the bar that seemed to have been installed in the last decade.

Serge gave a wave to the barkeep, a grey haired man with tired eyes and a tweed jacket who waved back and immediately grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf. He shuffled toward them as they slid into a small corner booth, the bottle in one hand, three glasses expertly balanced in the other. He poured them each a generous amount of the amber liquid without a word, raising his glass to them and taking an impressive swig.

“Right then,” he said, clearing his throat and slapping Serge on the back. “What’ll it be for you and the lovely lady?”

“I’d love a gin and tonic please,” Anna said, “and thank you so much for this.” She raised her glass to him again.

“A friend of Serge here is a friend of mine.”

“Thanks Errol.” Serge smiled. “I’ll have a pint of the usual please.”

Errol nodded, winking before returning to the bar.

“Errol’s like a second Dad to me,” Serge explained, running his long fingers over the grooves in the tabletop. “I’ve been coming to this pub since I was young. He’s seen me through it all.”

“That is so nice,” Anna said genuinely. She had grown up without a father so she valued the importance of paternal figures immensely.

Errol returned with two glasses, setting them down as his gaze landed on Anna.

“She’s a pretty one, Serge. How’d you trick her into spending time with you?”

“I’m still not sure,” Serge replied, squeezing her knee under the table. “I’m thanking my lucky stars tonight.”

“As you should!” Errol laughed warmly, turning back to Anna. “Don’ t let his ridiculous haircut fool you darling. He’s actually a good chap underneath it all.”

Anna smiled at Serge as he rolled his eyes.

“You know what Errol? I’m inclined to believe you for some reason or another.”

—

Two hours had somehow passed and Anna was cosied up to Serge in their corner, his arm around her as she sipped her third gin and tonic. She was happily buzzing and quietly wishing he would just kiss her already. Her nerves had been tingling with anticipation for over an hour now.

“I suppose I should get you home.” He whispered in her ear, resting his forehead against her, his breath warm on her cheek. All she wanted was to turn her face and find his lips, but she stayed still.

“I suppose,” she agreed quietly. The last two hours had been spent in intense conversation – the kind that just seemed to flow without effort. She had shared with him the struggles of being raised by a single mother and he had told her all about his last relationship and it’s bitter end. He was articulate, warm, and ridiculously funny. His dry humour had her worried she may split the seams of her dress from laughter.

Serge waved to Errol for the bill, but he waved back dismissively.

“I’ll put it on your tab, Mate!”

Shaking his head, Serge pulled a twenty pound note from his wallet and tossed it on the table, grabbing Anna’s hand and gently helping her out of the booth and to her feet. He lead her to the bar where he gave Errol a hearty handshake.

“Be good to this one, Serge” the barman said with a knowing smile. “She’s an exceptional find.”

Anna blushed deeply, taking his hand in her own and giving it a grateful squeeze. “Thank you for everything Errol, it’s been so wonderful meeting you.”

—

Back in the darkness of the town car’s backseat Anna’s stomach did a nervous flip. Was she supposed to invite him up when they got back? She wanted to.  _Badly_. But she knew she shouldn’t. They didn’t speak as the car sped along London’s streets towards her hotel. She rested her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hair.

“What shows do you have tomorrow?” he asked, breaking the silence as his fingers gently caressed the back of her neck.

“Ummmm,” she forced her brain into work mode. “Burberry, Tom Ford, and Christopher Kane, I think.”

He nodded without comment and continued tracing his fingers along her neck and through her hair until at last the car pulled up outside of The Wellington. Neither of them moved, nor did the driver make any attempt to open the door for them when he got out.

“Anna, I’ve had a really wonderful night with you.”

“Me too,” she said quietly, pulling herself upright and turning to face him, her heart speeding up, her palms clammy.

He paused, knitting his brows. “I’d really like to kiss you.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “May I?”

She felt her throat tighten.  _This was going to happen_. Words refused to leave her lips – all she could do was nod her consent. The moment she did her face was suddenly in his hands, his lips gently but eagerly meeting hers. Her hands rose and rested against his chest as he wove his fingers in her hair, his tongue circling hers as she melted against him. She gripped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer against her as she matched his ferocity with her own. It felt like ages before they parted breathlessly, their faces inches apart.

“I don’t want you to invite me up,” he said, his lips brushing her cheek.

“I don’t want to invite you up,” she responded, trailing kisses along his jaw.

“I like you, Anna.”

The words made her head spin and she pressed her lips to his again, silently letting him know she shared the sentiment, though she wasn’t willing to say the words out loud yet.

After a few more moments of entanglement Sergio reluctantly opened the car door. He sighed heavily before getting out, offering Anna his hand and helping her onto the sidewalk. She looked up into his green eyes and saw an intense desire she imagined must be mirrored by her own. His hands slid around her lower back and he pulled her against him, kissing her forehead gently.

“I’ll speak to you tomorrow?”

She nodded gently against his throat, leaving a soft kiss there before pulling away and using every ounce of effort she could muster to turn away from him. Once inside the lobby doors she looked over her shoulder. He stood next to the car, staring at her with a slight grin, and raised his hand in a wave which she returned before making her way toward the elevators and willing herself not to look back. She would only have four hours to sleep before she had to get up and ready for the day, but every lost hour was now worth it.


	5. Chapter 5

Anna prayed no one had inadvertently taken a picture of her yawning. Yawning at Burberry was not a thing one did. She was seated in the second row, just behind Paloma Faith and Alexa Chung, and while the line was fantastic, her mind kept drifting to the kiss, and her desperate need for caffeine. Her eyelids felt heavy but she had yet to rid herself of the grin that stayed plastered to her face. Her thoughts traveled back to hours before. The dark car; the heavy breath; the feeling of his thick wool jacket in her hands; his lips against hers. The sound of applause snapped her back to reality and she joined in as the models circled the catwalk followed by Christopher Bailey. As soon as they disappeared, the mass exodus began. Anna shuffled toward the exit shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of other attendees. The show emptied out into an equally over-crowded mezzanine As she scrolled through emails in her phone, a new text message from Sergio came through. She smiled, tapping the screen to open it.

_– Look up._

Her eyes shot upwards, searching the crowd hopefully, her pulse racing. She finally spotted him leaning against the wall across from her, two coffees in hand. She tried in vain to suppress her smile as she approached him.

“I heard you liked lattes,” he said, passing her a paper cup.

“You heard right!” she laughed. “You’re amazing.”

He leaned forward, kissing her cheek in greeting. “Shall we find somewhere to sit and wait for the Tom Ford show?”

“You’re going to Tom Ford?” she asked, surprised and quietly thrilled.

“Celebrity has its perks.” He grinned mischievously. “You’re joining me the front row.”

“Oh am I?”

He nodded. “I made a few calls this morning.”

Anna ignored the urge to leap into his arms and cover his face with grateful kisses. Instead, she took a sip of her coffee.

“Shall we?” He nodded his head in the direction of the exit. They made their way through the mezzanine and his hand reached for hers as if it were already second nature. The sun was bright in the sky, a novelty for London, and Anna let go of his hand just long enough to fish her sunglasses from her shoulder bag.

It was nice to walk with him in the daylight, but also strange. She could feel the eyes of passerby on them. While foreign to her, he seemed unfazed by the attention, chatting away normally as people stared and whispered and pointed in their direction. They finally settled on a ledge in the courtyard, where they drank their coffee and watched the people scurry about from one show to the next.

“I keep thinking about last night,” Serge said, staring off in front of him. Anna smiled, her eyes shining behind her sunglasses.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeh. I really rather like kissing you.”

“I really rather like it too.” She squeezed his hand.

“Can I take you out again tonight?” He turned to face her.

“Actually no.” She sighed deeply, wishing she had a different answer for him. She wanted nothing more than to shirk all responsibility and spend more time in the arms of this endlessly charming, flashy, Englishman. “I have a dinner with an editor and then I have to go back to the hotel and work. Tomorrow’s the last day of Fashion Week and I want to get a head start on my final submissions.”

“You could come and work at my house,” he said. “I’ve got a really nice desk.”

Anna laughed, throwing her head back and swatting him playfully. “I highly doubt I’d get any work done at your house.”

“Why not?” His tone was mocking. “What on earth else would you be doing?” He paused. “Anna, are you blushing?”

“Shut up,” she replied as her cheeks grew warmer. She looked away from him, her eyes focusing on a group of young girls teetering on the cobblestone in four inch heels.

“Well how about this,” he sighed. “I will let you do your work nonsense today and tomorrow if you have me as your date to whatever closing party you’re attending tomorrow night.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Oh I don’t know… I’ve got so many suitors…”

“Pick me! Pick me!” Serge’s voice was high and campy, and sent Anna into a fit of giggles.

“Okay…” she took a breath, facing him again. “I pick you.”

“Thank goodness.” He leaned in, their faces now inches apart. “I must be the luckiest man in all of London.”

Before she could say anything his mouth was on hers, kissing her gently before pulling away again, leaving her smiling and speechless.

“Right then. Tom awaits.” He stood, taking her hand and leading her back into the chaos and toward the giant tent that would house their next show. Anna was used to bypassing most of the line but with Sergio they bypassed everything, being ushered directly to the front row, where Serge was warmly greeted by Emma Watson, Harry Styles and Jessie J, who pulled him in for a big hug. He dutifully introduced Anna to them all and she was relieved to find them kind and welcoming.

“Anna, what do you do?” Emma asked, leaning over Sergio to strike up conversation.

“I’m a fashion writer,” she responded, trying not to let nerves get the better of her. “I’m covering Fashion Week for NYLON Magazine.

“Ohmygosh I love NYLON!” Emma gushed. “I did a cover for them last spring and had so much fun!”

“They’re definitely one of my favourite magazines to work with.”

“Who else do you work with?”

“Well I’m a blogger so I do a lot of web content. I’ve done a lot for Elle, Marie Claire, Glamour and a bit for Teen Vogue as well.”

“That sounds so fun!” Emma seemed genuinely enthusiastic and Anna was taken aback and  pleasantly surprised. “So how long are you in London for?”

Anna felt her stomach lurch a little as she felt Sergio’s attention shift to her. It was a topic they’d skilfully avoided up to now, never mentioning the implications of the fact that they lived on different continents.

“Ummmmm,” Anna faltered. “Well I’m in Europe for another month or so – I thought I’d travel around a bit while I was over here.” She didn’t look at Sergio. She didn’t want to acknowledge the reality of it all, and as Emma carried on happily, unaware of any tension her innocent question had caused, Anna sensed Serge’s attention shift back to the empty catwalk in front of them. It seemed he was avoiding it too.

As the lights dimmed and the show began, Anna reached for Sergio’s hand. He gave it to her and she felt a moment of relief, followed by an entire internal dialogue about why she should feel anything at all. What had she expected? What had  _he_  expected? They lived in entirely different worlds and while this was all good fun, it was just that, nothing more. She brought her attention back to the show, making mental notes on the cuts and fabrics being used this season.

When the show ended they were taken backstage through a separate exit – this, Anna thought, was so far the ultimate benefit of being with a celebrity during Fashion Week. Photographers were, of course, waiting like hawks by the entrance, and while she waited to be asked to move out of their shot, it didn’t happen. In fact, Sergio seemed to make a point of having them photographed together, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her tightly against him.

“Are you coming to Christopher Kane?” she asked as they cleared the media line. He nodded and grinned down at her.


	6. Chapter 6

A satisfied smile stretched across Anna’s face as she hit send – her day four submissions whooshing off into space and back down to earth somewhere in New York City. She was killing it. Her coverage was above and beyond what had been assigned or expected. Along with her regular content she had included video of her speaking to Christpher Kane backstage and snaps of her and Emma Watson with accompanying quotes. As much fun as she was having, she was excited that today was the last day of Fashion Week. The closing parties were always the most fun and she had Serge a date. Her smile grew.

Yesterday had been amazing. Not just because of the VIP treatment and all access perks, but because Sergio himself was amazing.. The more time she spent with him the more comfortable she became. She no longer looked over her shoulder to see who was watching, she no longer minded the occasional online insult. In fact, she almost enjoyed those now. She knew she shouldn’t be smug considering how transient the whole thing was. She knew she needed to keep herself in check but, as her gaze landed on the outfit she’d laid out for the night, she couldn’t combat the wave of giddyness that seemed to rise from her toes all the way up to her throat. She checked the time and got up quickly. She only had an hour to finish getting ready and get into town where she was meeting a gossip-hungry Sophie for coffee before their only show of the day.

She threw an over-sized white cable-knit sweater over her favourite leather tights and headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and fix her face. She emerged with a coat of red lipstick and two coats of mascara, tossing a wide-brimmed black hat over her dark hair – she’d wash it later.

–

“Well if it isn’t Mrs. Pizzorno!” Sophie cried as Anna entered the busy café they’d planned to meet at. She shushed her friend before pulling her in for a hug.

“Latte – with almond milk if you’ve got it!” She smiled at the Barista who blinked back at her, the blank expression on his face making it clear he was unimpressed with her and his job.

When both girls had been adequately armed with caffeine, they made their way out of the café and onto the street where they began the walk towards Somerset House.

“So, have you done  _the deed_  yet? Please tell me he has a magical cock.”

“SOPHIE!” Anna shrieked, gaping at her filterless friend. “No. We have not ‘done the deed.’” She shook her head at the ridiculous turn of phrase.

“Well why not? If I were you I’d be getting that man’s kit off in record time!”

Anna continued to shake her head, but Sophie pressed on. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tonight’s the night isn’t it?”

“Oh God. Do you ever stop?”

“That’s a yes!” Sophie was shouting again. “That’s a YES!”

Anna smacked Sophie with her free hand and brought her latte to her lips with the other, offering no further comment. Sergio had indeed invited her to spend the night but she’d yet to respond officially. She knew she wanted to, and she knew that after a few cocktails she’d be racing him to the door, but she also knew that she had to submit her final work tomorrow and that waking up beside him and without her laptop would not inspire work in the least.

“So what’s next after Fashion Week then?” Sophie asked, finally changing the subject.

“I honestly haven’t decided.” Anna sighed, “I thought I’d go to Paris maybe. Or Prague. I didn’t really make a plan. I have two more nights at the hotel before I have to make a move.”

“That’s exciting! You should go to Italy to meet the extended Pizzornos!”

“Sophie, I swear…” Anna began.

“Alright. I’ll stop.” Sophie raised her hands in surrender. “But in fairness, I have been demoted from your date to your third wheel for tonight, and for that you owe me.”

It was true, and Anna couldn’t argue. They walked the rest of the way discussing outfit choices and their favourite shows of the week. As they settled into their seats Anna felt her phone vibrate in her bag.

_– Good afternoon, beautiful._

She felt the fluttering in her chest that had become synonymous with their interactions.

_-hi_

_– Are you excited for tonight?_

_\- Cant’ wait! Though Sophie’s giving me grief about being a third wheel._

_– Ha! why don’t I bring a friend to keep her company?_

_\- Yes! That would be perfect!_

_– Right. I’ll make a call and change the dinner reservation._

“You’re not a third wheel anymore.” Anna turned to Sophie as the lights dimmed.

“What?”

“Serge is bringing you a friend.”

“Well then – he’d better be another gorgeous rock star. Tell him I request Alex Turner. NO! Tell him I request a reincarnated Jim Morrison.”

Anna stifled a laugh as the show began. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”

—

“I feel like we’re in high school getting ready for the prom.” Anna said, trying not to laugh as Sophie applied a shimmering peach shadow to her eyelids.

“Except that I’m sure your best friend in high school was not a professionally trained makeup artist.” Sophie replied, “keep still!”

After the show, the girls had gone back to Anna’s hotel room and done some writing before heading to Sophie’s flat to prepare for the night ahead. They would be meeting Serge and his friend for dinner at 8.

“So he didn’t tell you who he’s bringing?” Sophie pressed as she dug in her makeup case.

“Nope.”

“It better not be some kind of dud. Some balding, fat man with breath that smells of Doritos and regret.”

“Sophie, relax.” Anna tried not to laugh. She was very much aware of the foreign object dangerously close to her eye.

“I will relax if you will stop being a coy little priss and tell me every dirty thought you have about your rock star boyfriend. I need some proper girl talk – and I have the power to make you look terrible right now if you cross me.”

Anna let out a heavy sigh. She didn’t have many girlfriends back home so she wasn’t used to no-holds-barred gossip.

“You know I’m not good at this,” she said, relenting. “I’m really nervous Soph.”

“Look up, then explain.” Sophie instructed, pressing a small angled brush into a coppery shadow.

“I fucking like him, okay?” Anna’s shoulders slumped with the admission. “Like – a lot. More than I should. More than is  _okay_.”

“Well OBVIOUSLY!” Sophie practically shouted at her. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“I’m American, he’s English. He’s a celebrity – it’s a joke. It’s not real.”

“It’s the best joke anyone’s ever played on anyone ever.” Sophie snapped the eyeshadow palette in her hand shut for emphasis. “I would like someone to play that kind of joke on me.” She paused. “He’s a good snog?”

Anna laughed. “Yes. He’s a great kisser. Can we talk about anything else?”

“You’re lucky I’m finished with you.” Sophie put the palette back in her case and closed the lid.

Anna stood, moving to the mirror to observe her friend’s handiwork. “Oh Soph, it’s so perfect!” She felt excitement tightening her chest again as her reflection stared back at her. Everything was subtle, soft and shimmery – giving her an almost angelic appearance, her cheekbones were dusted with an iridescent powder that simply made her glow. Her black hair framed her face in gentle finger waves, small crystal earrings sparkling against the darkness.

“I don’t think you have a choice.”

“Hmmm?” Anna turned back toward Sophie.

“You’re definitely doing the deed tonight.”

—

As the black cab pulled up to the restaurant Sophie was still speculating out loud as to the identity of her mystery date while Anna laughed. She opened the door and stepped gingerly out of the car, pale peach-coloured fabrics falling about her ankles as she stood. Her dress was figure-hugging, floor length, and strapless, the colour almost as pale as she was. It was delicately hand-beaded and sparkled under the street lamps as she waited for Sophie on the sidewalk.

They walked inside, scanning the restaurant for Sergio and his friend.

“Aww fuck.” Sophie said suddenly, startling Anna.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s brought Noel bloody Fielding.”

Anna followed Sophie’s gaze and finally saw the two men seated in a booth across the room. “The comedian? What’s wrong with that?”

Just as she asked, Sergio spotted them and waved. As they crossed the room Sophie spoke through gritted teeth, her face an over-enthusiastic smile. “Well one drunk night in Camden I may or may not have gone home with him.”

Anna spoke softly, her volume matching Sophie’s as they neared the table. “Was he an asshole?”

“I don’t know, I snuck out in the morning and never saw him again – Noel! How nice to see you!” Her voice returned to a slightly louder than necessary volume as they reached the table and both men stood to greet them. As she watched the awkward hug that followed, Sergio wrapped his arms around her.

“You might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing her cheek as he held her against him. “Are you trying to kill me?”

They pulled apart and she looked up at him with a smile on her lips. “Absolutely.”

He shook his head and turned towards the others. “Noel, this is Anna.”

Noel was every bit as wonderful and weird as she’d expected him to be, clad in an embroidered black cape, tight trousers and blinding white boots. He hugged her warmly in greeting. “Serge hasn’t shut up about you for days. It’s nice to meet you at last!”

The foursome slid into the large booth, Serge and Anna on one side, Noel and Sophie on the other.

“So the two of you know each other?” Serge asked.

“We’ve met.” Sophie replied dryly.

“Once upon a time in Camden,” Noel added with a grin.

“Ahh I see,” Serge nodded, getting the idea and snickering to himself at the situation.

A waiter came by just then. “Can I start anyone off with something to drink?”

The group responded “yes!” in enthusiastic unison and the night began. A bottle of wine later the tension at the table had been replaced with laughter, Noel and Sergio carrying on while Sophie and Anna giggled at their antics. Anna liked Noel instantly; she noticed Sophie seemed to relax more and more as the dinner went on, and her and Noel went from sitting on opposite sides of their bench to quite close in the centre of it by the time the second bottle of wine hit the table. As much as Serge was engaging with Noel, his focus remained on Anna. He was constantly touching her in some way, his hand on her thigh under the table, occasionally slipping around her lower back as she leaned forward, doubled over in laughter. Everywhere he touched her he left a burning heat. She was aching to be alone with him already and their night was barely halfway through. By the time the check came she was practically sitting on his lap, her head on his shoulder, one arm across her body, hand resting on his chest where she played with the necklaces that lay there absentmindedly.

“Look at these characters,” Noel nodded at them. “Two fancy peas in a posh little pod!”

Anna tilted her head to look up at Sergio, both of them laughing, and her heart beat in her chest wildly as they locked eyes for an intense moment. It was as though the restaurant melted into the background and time slowed down. His green eyes shone with laughter as they met her own, and she noted how much she adored the laugh lines that formed around them when he smiled. She almost believed she could feel his heart quicken its pace beneath her palm as well, and something about the way he was looking at her made her fearful and hopeful all at once.

“Oh kiss each other and be done with it!” Noel feigned exasperation from the other side of the table.

“Yeah! On with it!” Sophie chimed in, seemingly happy to have a partner in crime.

Anna laughed against his mouth as Sergio pressed his lips to hers, she could feel his smile against her own as her hands grabbed either side of his face. Noel and Sophie cheered and whistled, probably disturbing the rest of the dining room, but Anna wasn’t bothered. Her head felt light and her body warm. She didn’t care who knew.

When they arrived at the event, they piled out of the black SUV in pairs, photographers on them like vultures the minute they caught sight of the two fluffy haired men in the group. As had become usual, Sergio kept Anna tight at his side as the flashbulbs burst, and Anna was surprised to see Noel and Sophie posing together against the media wall. She nudged Sergio, pointing at the duo and he laughed. Sophie’s smile was wide as Noel twirled her around, hamming it up for the cameras as her dark blue gown swirled around her legs. Anna noticed that Noel kept his arm around Sophie long after they had moved away from the photo opp, but she decided not to acknowledge it. She was glad she didn’t seem to have to worry about keeping Sophie entertained. She’d save her teasing for later.

Once inside, Anna was eager to take as many photos as she could – she wanted to get it out of the way so the night wouldn’t feel like work. All she wanted was to enjoy a night with her handsome date. He looked good. He looked  _really_ good. He was wearing tight black pants with a leather-look treatment, a crisp black button up that was barely buttoned up, exposing a fair amount of his chest, a collection of long necklaces hanging against it. His outfit was finished off with a dark velvet blazer that she couldn’t keep her hands off and a pair of shiny black boots.

“Soph,” she said, letting go of Sergio’s hand for long enough to tap her distracted friend on the arm. “Do you want to do a quick round of the room? Shake some hands, kiss some babies, get some shots so we can get it over with and enjoy ourselves?”

“Has someone brought a baby to Fashion Week?” Noel interrupted. “How irresponsible.”

The girls laughed and Sophie took Anna’s hand. “Let’s go. Boys, behave yourselves!”

As soon as they were out of earshot Sophie turned to her friend. “Don’t even start right now.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Anna feigned innocence as Sophie scowled at her.

The girls schmoozed and snapped photos at lightening speed – they were on a mission and could not be stopped. When they were finally satisfied that they’d networked enough for the evening, they found Sergio and Noel leaning on the bar, two waif-like brunettes talking to them eagerly, and far too close for Anna’s comfort. She froze for half a second, her throat tight. He was a rock star. she’d almost allowed herself to forget. Sophie sensed the shift in Anna’s state and grabbed her by the hand.

“Darlings! There you are!” she exclaimed, heading straight for them. “Did you miss us?” She slid right in between the girls and tucked into Noel’s arm, leaving a big kiss on his cheek.  “Oh hello there,” she finally acknowledged the brunettes as if she’d just seen them standing there. Anna admired Sophie so much – she was a force to be reckoned with and commanded attention in a way Anna had never quite mastered. Noel didn’t bat an eyelash at the blonde’s sudden acts of affection, in fact, he seemed quite happy to play along.

Sergio saw her lingering outside the scene and looked confused. He reached his arm out in her direction and beckoned her over, pulling her against his side.

“ _I_  missed you,” he grinned, placing a calloused hand on her cheek and leaning in for a quick kiss. Anna scolded herself for worrying. The two hangers on quickly got the hint that they had lost the fight and moved along, searching for some other celebrities to cling to.

They ordered a round of drinks and settled back into easy conversation. Anna was relieved that she could finally just enjoy herself amongst friends without worrying about work. She  _would_ have to worry in the morning unfortunately, but for now she could just be in the moment.

As the night wore on and the drinks continued to pour Anna found herself happily melting into Sergio’s side, the velvet of his jacket soft against his skin, his arm wrapped around her, their fingers entwined over his shoulder, his thumb caressing the inside of her palm.

“I would really like you to come home with me tonight,” he said earnestly. “I just want to lie beside you.”

She smiled softly. “No you don’t, but that sounds nice.”

He kissed her forehead gently. “I just don’t want to say goodnight to you this time.”

“I have to work,” Anna sighed. “I’m in a gown.”

“We can stop at your hotel. You can grab some clothes and your computer. The time difference works in your favour, Anna.” He squeezed her hand. “I promise I’ll let you work.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, not believing that bit of it.

“I have an espresso machine…” he grinned, knowing he had her. She tilted her chin upwards, silently requesting a kiss he gladly gave.

“Damn you,” she whispered.

His eyes moved past her and his smile grew wider and devilish. He nodded over her shoulder and she turned to see Sophie and Noel locked in a passionate embrace and kissing like teenagers against the bar. She covered her face to stifle a laugh.

“Do we just leave them here?” she whispered. “I don’t want to interrupt!”

“They seem like they’re capable of handling themselves.” He grinned, removing his arm from around her, taking the empty glass from her hand and placing it on the bar. “Shall we?”

That question was so loaded she could barely stand it. Her stomach churned as she took his hand and nodded, following him toward the exit without saying goodbye to their companions.

—

Alone in her room she was finally able to drop the façade of calm. She rushed around throwing toiletries and clothing items into a bag, her breath short, her chest tight. She stopped spinning for a moment to look in the mirror and compose herself, wiping a bit of mascara from under her eyes and smoothing her hair back into place. Sergio was waiting downstairs in the car. Waiting to take her to his house, where she would spend the night. She smiled at herself in the mirror like a goofy teen, her nerves on fire with anticipation. She took a breath and let it out, calmly grabbing her toothbrush and zipping up the bag beside her. She grabbed her laptop on the way out the door and tried her best not to run down the hall.

—

Sergio’s place was gorgeous. It was modest flat in an old mansion block in Maida Vale. He explained to her that he had a house outside of London in Leicestershire, but that this was where he lived when he was spending time in the city. He gave her a quick tour and offered her a cup of tea. She nodded, not really wanting one, but not wanting to be impolite and suddenly very nervous and happy for anything to delay the inevitable.

She leaned against the door frame watching him move around the small kitchen, pulling two teacups down from the cupboard, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove, all the while chatting away about his house in the country. She crossed the space, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head against his back. He stopped talking, and she swore she could hear his smile. He turned to face her, leaning against the counter and pulling her back against him, her hands against his chest. She looked up, much shorter than him now that she’d removed her heels. She felt delicate and small in his arms – a feeling she liked very much. He cupped her face in his hands, leaning down, his face now inches from hers, his breath warm on her skin. He held there for a moment, just looking at her as her heart sat in her throat.

“I  _really_  like you, Anna.” His voice was as soft as his touch and she smiled, her eyes gleaming as she looked up into his.

“I  _really_  like you too.”

He closed the gap between them, his hands moving to tangle in her hair as his lips claimed hers. Anna pressed her body as tightly to his as she could, wrapping her arms around his back as their tongues danced with and against each other, their breathing heavy, a sense of urgency building rapidly as the kettle began to softly hiss beside them. Her hands moved back to his chest, now fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt, undoing them with delicate fingers, eager to find the skin underneath. She could feel him throbbing against her and the reality of it scared her as much as it excited her. Her desire for him overwhelmed her in a way she wasn’t sure she’d ever experienced, and the kettle began to scream on the stove, as though it were speaking for her.

“ _Fuck_.” The word left his mouth in a moan as he tilted his head back, annoyed at the interruption.

“I don’t really want any tea,” she said breathlessly, her hands against the smooth, warm skin of his chest.

Without a word, he removed the kettle from the heat, slamming it down on another burner and turning the stove off. He took her hand and lead her down the hallway into the bedroom. _It was happening._

He stood behind her, hands on her arms, kissing and nibbling softly at her neck and shoulders. His hands moved towards the zipper of her gown.

“May I?” He spoke into her hair, sending an involuntary shiver through her. She was painfully aware that this dress did not require much in the way of undergarments and that the moment she gave her permission she would be exposed, almost naked in one movement. She took a breath and nodded.

He pulled the zipper down slowly, careful not to damage the delicate fabric. When he got to the bottom, he slid his hands inside, helping to slide the dress down over her hips and into a pool of sparkles at her feet. He paused there, admiring the bare skin of her back and the pale lace underwear that left him barely anything to imagine. He ran his hands back up the sides of her thighs and wrapped them around her waist again, burying his face in her neck.

She was desperate to taste his lips again and stepped out of the dress, turning to face him. His eyes took her in and he let out a contended sigh.

“You are fucking perfect,” he said softly, pulling her against him once more.

Her hands moved inside his shirt, pushing it over his shoulders and down his arms, taking the jacket with it. She pressed against him again, kissing him, revelling in the feeling of her bare skin against his. She wanted more. She tugged at his belt, hungrily kissing him as she undid it. He helped her with the buttons of his fly and tugged down his trousers and pulling them off, leaving him in just a pair of small trunks that did nothing to hide his excitement.

Anna backed up, sitting on the bed and pulling herself back as he quickly crawled over top of her, his long limbs overtaking her as she slid across the soft comforter. The moans that escaped her lips as he pressed himself against her surprised them both. She was starving for him and he couldn’t get enough of her.

“Please,” she whispered, biting her lip and pulling at his waistband.

He groaned, kissing his way down her throat, leaving a trail of heat as he moved lower, his hands finding each breast, gently driving her mad with rough fingertips. He stopped only to remove the last bit of fabric hiding her body from him, following suit quickly, releasing himself from the confines of his trunks  before lowering himself between her thighs, his lips grazing the tender skin there, causing her to cry out. Her hands made fists in his hair as he moved his kisses upwards and she could feel pressure and heat building inside of her.

“Serge –“ she gasped, her toes curling under. “Serge please.”

He didn’t need her to finish the sentence. Before she could, he was making his way back up to her mouth, silencing her with his as he reached into the drawer of the bedside table. Her hands found him as he found what he was looking for. She heard the sound of him ripping open the foil packet as she stroked him, replacing her hands with his own for a moment as he prepared himself.

She pulled his face back down to hers as he positioned himself between her legs, both of them breathless with anticipation.

He broke away from her lips, looking her in the eyes, silently asking for her permission. She nodded, her body screaming for him. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, biting her lip and preparing for that first moment.

He was gentle at first, both of them breathing sharply in unison at the new sensation, but his pace quickened as she dug her nails into the skin of his back. His necklaces hanging cool against the skin of her chest as her hips rose to meet him over and over.

He was an ocean wave, and she, a hungry shoreline, drawing him into her, the two crashing against each other in a delicious mixture of desperation and ecstasy.

She found her release first, crying out his name as he followed quickly behind, collapsing on top of her, skin wet with sweat, back rising and falling quickly with heavy breath. She ran her hands through his hair, twirling the damp ends between her fingers as she let the warmth wash over her, her eyelids heavy, her mouth a lazy Cheshire grin.

They lay this way, catching their breath for awhile until Sergio reluctantly removed himself, kissing her gently and standing on unsteady legs.

“Water?” he asked. She nodded vigorously. He stood for a moment, admiring her before leaving the room. She pulled herself off the bed and to the en-suite bathroom, freshening up and trying in vain to fix the mess they’d made of her hair. When she returned to the bedroom, Sergio stood waiting, a teacup in each hand, each filled to the brim with water. She accepted hers gratefully, draining the cup in just a few gulps.

“Let’s go to bed, Anna.” He said softly, taking the cup from her hands and setting it, along with his, on the bedside table.

She lay down next to him, curling against his side, her head resting against his shoulder, their breath rising and falling together as his fingertips played against her skin.

Neither said a word as they drifted off into a contented sleep, wrapped up in each other, unwilling to let go.


	7. Chapter 7

Morning light streamed into the bedroom from a small window near the bed where Anna and Sergio lay, still intertwined. Anna was tucked against Sergio, his arms wrapped tightly around her body beneath the dark burgundy comforter. She slowly drifted out of sleep and into consciousness, feeling the weight of his arms across and underneath her, and the warmth of his body against her back and thighs. He was breathing deeply against her ear, still fast asleep. She opened her eyes gently, squinting to make out the hands of the clock on the table by the bed. It was almost 10am, which meant it was only 5 in New York, and she still had a few hours to get her work done. She took a quick mental inventory of her state. Her head felt a bit woozy, but it was nothing an advil and a coffee wouldn’t cure; her stomach felt fine, and the rest of her body only hurt in a good way – a reminder of last night’s intimacies. She smiled to herself at the dull ache between her thighs, the mere acknowledgement of it awakening her nerve endings. She moved against him ever-so-slightly, his arms tightening around her in subconscious response, silently making sure she wasn’t going anywhere.

She traced her fingers along the arm that lay across her. Feeling him shiver in response, and hoping he wasn’t too deep a sleeper. Whether or not he was conscious, she felt certain parts of him begin to rise, and she bit her lip as she gently moved her hips against him in encouragement. She heard a change in his breathing and a soft groan, and then she felt his lips against her neck.

“Good morning.” His voice was a throaty whisper and he followed his words with a trail of kisses from just below her earlobe to the edge of her shoulder, his hands moving first to her breasts and then south, finding the heat between her legs with deft fingers. She moaned at his touch, writhing against him as he nipped at her throat. She rolled over, needing to face him and to taste his lips on hers. Their kisses were sleepy at first, slow and languid, as their hands familiarized themselves with each other’s bodies again in the warmth of daylight, but quickly things intensified as their skin woke up, their passions reigniting.

When he claimed her again he was steady and sure, setting his pace as her hips rose to meet him. The only sound in the room was their heavy breath and the rhythmic rustling of the bed sheets beneath them. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, sighing against his throat as her fingers kneaded his back.

Anna reveled in the feeling of his body against hers, his breath on her face, his lips finding hers over and over again as they slid against each other, pale skin slick with sweat. When his movements became sporadic, she knew he was close and reached a hand down between them to help herself get there too. The very action was his undoing. He cursed as he finished and she followed just after, moaning his name as he shuddered above her.

Removing himself from her reluctantly, he rolled onto his back beside her, his chest rising and falling quickly and damp with sweat. They lay there breathing, not speaking or touching, for what felt like a very long time before she felt his fingers find hers between them on the bed. She turned her face towards him, smiling at the mess of dark hair that was curling in all directions around his handsome profile. He turned his face to hers, his grin matching her own.

“I’m normally not a morning person,” he began. “But that’s one hell of a way to wake up.”

She laughed, placing a hand on his chest, feeling his heart still beating quickly beneath her palm. He rolled over her, lowering his mouth to hers.

“I believe I owe you a coffee.” He moved a strand of hair from her face, still hovering above her.

“Don’t go.” She pouted, wrapping her arms around him in an effort to keep him from rolling away.

“I reckon you have work to do Miss Mercer.” He squirmed out of her arms, leaving a kiss on her forehead before standing, tossing on a pair of trunks from a nearby pile of folded laundry, and leaving the room.  She heard the banging of cupboard doors and reluctantly dragged herself to a seated position on the bed.

“Do I have time to shower?” she called to him,

“Yeah, this thing takes awhile to warm up,” he shouted back.

Entering the bathroom, Anna peered around for fresh towels, finding a neatly folded stack in a small cupboard. She turned the water on and hung a dark grey towel on a hook beside the shower’s glass door, stepping into the small stall and under the hot stream gratefully. She closed her eyes and let the steam envelop her, tipping her head back and soaking her dark hair until the click of the shower door latch made her jump. She opened her eyes and her surprise was replaced by a smile as Sergio joined her in the tiny stall, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“It takes a  _long_  while to warm up…” he explained, squeezing next to her and grabbing her hips; pulling himself against her so they were both under the water. She reached her hands upwards, pulling her fingers through his hair under the showerhead as he tilted his face skyward, water cascading over his closed eyelids and down his throat. Without thinking, she pressed her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes; her arms around his neck. He wrapped his around her waist in silent response, resting his chin on the top of her head. They stood in this embrace for what seemed like a very long time, the water washing over them as they clung to each other without a sound. Anna felt a sudden heat behind her eyes – the threat of tears. It had been a very long time since she’d felt close to someone like she did in this moment, however fleeting it might be. She turned her face, pressing her lips to his chest, taking a mental snapshot of this frame in time before raising her mouth to meet his, already waiting there above her. He kissed her deeply, tenderly, as her heart rose to her throat, her hands on his cheeks, his beard wet beneath her fingertips. This kiss was different from the ones that had come before it; something behind it sending Anna’s head spinning in directions she had not anticipated when she had boarded her flight to London.

The skin on their palms and feet was wrinkled and prune-like by the time they emerged from their shower, pink and warm. Serge grabbed the towel, wrapping it around them both as Anna giggled and shivered against him.

“Coffeeeee…” she whispered into his shoulder.

“Alright, alright.” Sergio stole the towel from around them, tousling his hair with it dramatically before quickly wrapping it back around her shoulders. He planted a kiss on the top of her head before turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen.

Anna wiped her palm against the mirror, clearing the condensation from the glass. She ran a hand through her black hair, slicking it back and out of her face. Her lips were a slightly swollen pout, her skin was dewy and glowing. She couldn’t help but smile at her reflection, tucking the towel under her arms and across her chest, barely covering a few faint fingertip-shaped bruises on her left breast.

Emerging from the bathroom, she saw Serge had placed her bag on the bed. She dug out the black leggings and long sweater she had packed and pulled them on, thankful for the warmth they offered. She applied a quick coat of mascara and one of lip balm before grabbing her laptop and venturing out into the flat. Sergio was nowhere to be found but had left a large white mug full to the brim with perfectly steamed milk sitting on the desk in the living room. She smiled. He hadn’t lied. He had a _very_  nice desk.

It had to have been 20 minutes or so before he returned. By then Anna had settled into her work, typing away, her knees tucked under her on the large leather office chair. She looked up to see him kicking off his boots, a large paper bag in hand. He wore a floppy black hat over his still-damp hair, dark jeans and a thin black sweater under a dark grey tweed jacket. He smiled widely as his eyes met hers.

“You look good there.”

“It’s a very good desk. Where have you been?”

“Fetching breakfast things.”

“I love breakfast things!” Anna exclaimed, moving to get up from her perch.

“No no, you stay there and work,” he said, crossing the small living area and entering the kitchen behind her. He appeared at her side a few minutes later, setting down a plate full of English breakfast staples. She admired the arrangement of sourdough toast, grilled tomato, field mushrooms, fried eggs, and a hearty helping of beans.

“That’s a  _lot_  of breakfast things.”

“But no sausages,” he declared, clearly proud that he’d remembered she was a vegetarian.

“Thank you Serge,” she smiled up at him. “This looks amazing.”

Sergio took his plate to the couch as Anna dug into her meal hungrily. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She watched as he set down his food on the coffee table and crouched down beside an old turntable unit, flipping through a stack of vinyl records that leaned against it.

“Any requests?” He asked.

“Got any T-Rex?” She asked between bites.

“Electric Warrior?”

“The Slider.”

He grinned at her. “You get better and better, don’t you, Anna Mercer.”

She shrugged and smiled, ripping into a piece of toast, as he found the record and put it on. She silently marveled at the domesticity of it all. How nice it felt to type away at her laptop, and see him eating a forkful of mushrooms when she looked over the top of her screen; how strange that mere weeks ago they hadn’t known each other at all, and yet now she felt as if she belonged here, with him. She swallowed her toast and forced such thoughts from her mind, focusing instead on finalizing the wrap-up she was working on. As she searched through her photos, selecting the best ones to attach, her phone vibrated on the desk beside her, rattling against her breakfast plate and shocking her back to the present. It was Sophie.

_– I want to talk about last night, but I don’t want to talk about last night._

Anna laughed, picking up her phone and typing a reply.

_\- whatever can you mean?_

_– Sod off. You know full well what I mean. YOU LEFT ME._

_\- you seemed busy._

_– I hate you._

_\- you don’t._

_– Where are you?_

Anna paused, blushing.

_\- in London._

_– in Maida Vale perhaps?_

_-…_

_– EXCELLENT! TELL ME EVERYTHING!_

_\- Where are you?_

_– That doesn’t matter._

_\- Camden perhaps?_

_– Anyway… How is Sergio? Is he every bit as sexy with his clothes off as he is with them on?_

_\- no comment. How’s Noel?_

_– no comment._

_\- are you still with him???_

_– he won’t let me leave. I tried to sneak out but he caught me. I think he’s trying to cook._

_\- he’s making you breakfast!?!?_

_– it’s most likely beans on toast, but yes. I think he is._

_\- When’s the wedding?_

_– I don’t find you funny._

Anna laughed aloud, causing Serge to look up from his breakfast.

“What’s going on over there?”

“It’s Sophie,” she said, and he smiled in understanding.

“And how was  _Sophie’s_ evening?”

“Apparently it hasn’t ended yet.”

Serge laughed, standing, plate in hand before crossing the room and collecting hers too. “Excellent! Double dates, then?”

Anna rolled her eyes in response, trying to ignore the excitement that passed over her at the idea. She was leaving soon – this was not a fantasy she would be able to maintain. It was fleeting.

“Serious,” he said, “we should all do something tonight.” He headed toward the kitchen with the breakfast dishes as she followed him with her eyes.

“I have to check out of my hotel tomorrow morning.”

“Where are you going from there?” he called back to her. She wished she could see his face, read his expression, get any sense as to what he might be thinking.

“I have been so caught up I haven’t planned – but I was thinking of grabbing a cheaper hotel for another night in London and then taking the train to Paris. Starting there.”

“Makes sense – Fashion girl in Paris.” He poked his head out from the kitchen. “I think you should just stay here.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat and her stomach flip. “What?”

“Yeah. We can grab your bags today.” His head disappeared again, back into the kitchen. “No sense spending more money on a hotel. Save it for a pair of shoes in Paris.”

She was thankful he couldn’t see the way her face fell. Instantly, she felt foolish.  _Of course that’s what he meant._ She scolded herself for even thinking anything else, and surprised at what felt like disappointment. “Are you sure? That’s really not necessary.”

He returned from the kitchen, leaning on the back of her chair with his hands. “Well I’m not very well sleeping without you while you’re still in London,” he said, smiling down at her. “Stay here with me, and I’ll drive you to the train station on Wednesday.”

Anna smiled up at him, ignoring the nagging ache of longing that she could feel burning somewhere behind her ribcage. “Thank you,” she said softly.


	8. Chapter 8

_#Paris #LooksandLattes #Yum #Travel #France #Jtaime #Amour #latte #bonjour_ **  
**

Anna considered her hashtags carefully before tapping Share – the photo of her late-afternoon latte shooting off into the social media ether. She eagerly took a sip, glad to find that it tasted just as delicious as it photographed. Settling back in her chair, she gazed out at the passerby as they strolled by her tiny wrought iron table on the pavement outside the famous Café de Flore. Paris was wonderful. It was everything she had hoped it would be. She had done more shopping than necessary, taken some amazing photos, and eaten some of the most delicious food she’d ever tasted. She smiled to herself contentedly, taking a second sip of the rich foamy beverage. She would have carried on with this blissful reverie if it weren’t for the posh London accents of the couple that sat next to her, their voices bringing back the heaviness in her heart she’d so diligently worked to rid herself of.

It had been 3 days since Sergio had dropped her at Gatwick. Last minute flights had wound up being cheaper than the Eurostar, but they’d opted to take the train to the airport, in some pseudo romantic effort to spend more time together. It was easier to kiss and hold hands, and to pretend, when Sergio wasn’t responsible for navigating traffic and shifting gears. They had done all of those things on the overground train to Gatwick. Anna had disguised any threat of tears under large dark sunglasses and overenthusiastic laughter as they whispered their sweet nothings while gazing out over the suburbs of London from train windows. Their last two days had been a blur of lust and laughs, hangovers, and fun with friends. They’d spent time with Noel and Sophie, who were still adamantly denying their fondness for each other with constant ribbing, to the entertainment of everyone around. The time they spent alone was spent ignoring the inevitable; pretending as though they had all the time in the world. She took another sip of her coffee, smirking at the memory of their ridiculous double date.

_–_

_Sergio’s hand was on her thigh as they sat in the back of the black cab, his fingertips dancing across the bare skin beneath the hem of her skirt, sending a shiver through her shoulders and a smile to her lips. They were on their way to a pub in Camden to meet Sophie and Noel for drinks and some live music._

_“This should be interesting,” she smirked.  
“Very entertaining,” Serge agreed, peering at her from under the brim of his dark hat as the shadows played across his features._

_She wondered at his bone structure, her insides twisting with want - she found the level of desire he prompted almost annoying; it was hard to keep her thoughts straight when he was this close. She saw his eyes move to her mouth as she gently bit her bottom lip. His fingernails gingerly grazed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and she let out a soft sigh despite herself. He smiled._

_“I have half a mind to tell the driver to turn around and go straight back to the flat.”_

_A blush crept into Anna’s cheeks and she was thankful for the darkness of the back seat._

_“Later,” was all she could manage to whisper before gently pushing his hand down to safer territory as they pulled up to the curb. Sergio slid out onto the street and extended an arm to help her out, paying the driver before leading her into the busy pub. He kept her tucked closely to his side as they made their way to the bar. Anna could see the looks and whispers of recognition, and felt a silly sense of pride, tightening her arm possessively around his waist._

_Noel and Sophie seemed to have become a sort of comedy duo since Anna had last seen them; Noel dramatically fawning over Sophie with a flourish that would put Pepe le Pew to shame, while Sophie glared at him, swatting his hands away from her, vehemently denying any interest. Anna could tell though, by the gleam in her eyes and the faint smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth even when her brows were knit, that her friend was enjoying every moment of their little game._

–

Anna smiled, picking up her phone and tapping out a message.

_-how’s your boyfriend?_

_–do you want me to come to Paris and smack you?_

_-kind of._

_–how’s yours?_

_-don’t have one. ‘keeping it light.’_

_–ouch. Really?_

_-mmhmm. We send texts here or there, but nothing of significance._

_–what is wrong with that man?_

It hadn’t been until they arrived at the airport that they finally acknowledged the elephant in the room. She’d let Serge lead the conversation for fear of saying the wrong thing or asking for too much. They’d agreed to stay in touch, and that they’d miss each other but made no romantic declarations or plans. The closest they came to discussing visiting each other was the agreement that, with both of their travel-heavy lives, they were bound to wind up in the same city again soon. It was all very safe, very non-committal, and, in Anna’s mind at least, very far from what she was steadfastly denying she truly wanted. She could still hear his voice whispering “Farewell darling,” against her skin, and feel the slight tickle of his beard against her cheek. Her throat tightened at the memory and she decided to start walking, needing to distract herself. The first days in Paris had been exceptionally trying. The irony of being in the “city of love” alone was not lost on Anna. She finished her latte, leaving the mug on the small table and, with a deep breath, found herself back on the sidewalk, walking briskly in the direction of the Seine, finding welcome distraction in the windows of art galleries and antique shops along Rue Bonaparte.

She finally reached the river and strolled along it’s bank, snapping photos as the sun began it’s descent in the sky, and doing her best to enjoy the beauty of her surroundings. It seemed her mind had other plans, drifting easily back to London and to her time with Sergio.

–

_“I can’t,” Anna moaned. “I hate Camden. I hate Sophie. I hate Noel.” Her temples were throbbing and her skin hurt. Everything hurt._

_“Do you hate me too?” Sergio asked, kissing her shoulder in what should have been a sweet gesture but, to Anna in her current state, felt nothing of the sort._

_“Go away,” she mumbled into the pillow, cursing him silently as she heard him snicker to himself. He climbed over her and out of the bed, the shifting of the mattress making her nauseous. She heard him pad out of the bedroom and across to the washroom, the sound followed by the opening of cupboards and the running of tap water. Moments later, he was at her side._

_“Sit up, Anna. Trust me.”_

_She moaned, but begrudgingly did as she was told. He handed her a pill and a glass of water._

_“It’s a paracetamol & codeine.” He noticed her wariness. “It’s from Boots, Anna. It’s not a bloody narcotic.”_

_She took the pill and forced it down her throat with a large gulp of water, praying for relief. “What time is it?”_

_“Almost one.”_

_“Fuck,” she muttered. “I leave tomorrow and I’m wasting my last day with a horrible hangover.”_

_Sergio stroked her head, placing a gentle kiss on her temple. “You lie here and let the drugs kick in. I’m going to sort out some food.”_

_Anna lay with an arm draped over her eyes, waiting for the pill to work it’s magic on her, and regretting the number of shots she’d taken in the last 12 hours. Serge, Sophie, Noel, and her had had an overly indulgent and incredibly fun night, but all that fun was now being paid for in spades and Anna couldn’t help but feel upset with herself for indulging too much when the clock was ticking. This hangover was a waste of precious time she could have used for exploring London or, at the very least, exploring the planes of Sergio’s lithe body._

_As if on cue, he reappeared in the doorway with a large mug in hand. He crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and offering the steaming beverage to her._

_“It’s green tea, with a bit of ginger. It should help.”_

_Anna accepted the drink gratefully, admiring Sergio’s bare arms and chest through bleary eyes. She took a large sip and settled back against the headboard, patting the bed next to her._

_She leaned back against his shoulder as he sat beside her, wrapping one long arm around her, running his fingertips through her hair and gently scratching them against her scalp. She closed her eyes at the sensation, the combination of that, the tea and the codeine finally beginning to ease her pain. She finished the drink quickly, feeling it’s warmth settle her stomach, and set the cup on the bedside table._

_“Thank you,” she whispered, turning to nuzzle into him, wrapping both arms around his middle and softly kissing his throat.  
_

_“Better?” He placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her face up to his.  
_

_“Mmmhmm.” A smile curled at the corners of her lips as he brought his to meet them gently, with caution. She responded with a soft moan, the fluttering in her chest overtaking the remainder of her discomfort as she felt heat beginning to grow between her thighs. Her hand trailed slowly south across his chest, toying with the waistband of his trunks, and his kisses became more urgent, his teeth finding her bottom lip as her hand found his length. He kissed and nipped his way down her throat, long fingers tugging away the sheet that had been wrapped around her, exposing more of her flesh to his eager mouth._

_The doorbell rang._

_“Are you kidding me?” Anna’s hand stopped and Serge moaned in frustration.  
_

_“Fucking hell. That’ll be the pizza.”  
_

_“The what?”  
_

_“I told you I was going to sort food. You have to go get it.”  
_

_“ME?”  
_

_“Well I can’t very well go to the door like this, can I?” He gestured to the very obvious reason he couldn’t and she choked back a laugh as the doorbell rang again._

_“Dressing gown. On the chair.”  
_

_Anna followed his direction, throwing his dark, striped dressing gown over herself and running from the room toward the front door. When she returned a few minutes later he gave her a puzzled look._

_“Where’s the pizza?”  
_

_“I left it in the kitchen.”_  
  
“Aren’t you hungry?”  


_She let the dressing gown fall from her shoulders, moving back towards the bed and crawling over top of him. “It’s okay. I like my pizza cold.”_

_—_

“Fuck.” 

Anna cursed under her breath. She was sitting on the bank of the Seine. In Paris… and she was barely paying attention. She  _had_  to shake this. She  _had_  to find a way to switch her focus to her trip and herself. She felt like she was seeing him everywhere - which was infuriating since _no one_  looked like him anywhere. She decided to make it an early night, grabbing a bottle of merlot on her way back to her hotel and planning on getting some blog posts and photos edited and scheduled with a little wine and room service. She would throw herself into her writing and get a good night’s sleep, determined to spend the next day (her last in Paris) enjoying the last few stops on her must-see list. She’d gotten into the habit of using her online following to hold her accountable for her plans over the years, so she opened Twitter on her way up the hotel stairs.

_Tonight I write. Tomorrow I visit Jim and Oscar. #Paris #France #OneLastNight_


	9. Chapter 9

Anna woke early, and with great purpose. She showered quickly, doing her best to shake the wine-induced cobwebs from her head. She slipped on her favourite dark skinny jeans and a soft grey David Bowie T-shirt, it’s print well-worn with age and love, before packing her suitcase and carry-on bag. Her flight to Berlin the next morning was an early one, and she did not want to have to worry about time today. Today was just for her. **  
**

She had stuck to her mission the night before, focusing intensely on editing photos and setting up blog posts for the week ahead. She had sipped her merlot and tapped away at the keys to a soundtrack of old school hip hop (she knew she wouldn’t get sentimental or sad to a Public Enemy song), and she had barely seen his face when she turned out the lights, so exhausted from walking all day that she fell swiftly into a dreamless sleep. Now, she touched up her makeup while bopping along to Haim’s _Falling_.

_“Don’t stop, no, I’ll never give up_

_And I’ll never look back, just hold your head up_

_And if it gets rough, it’s time to get rough”_

She sang along while packing her shoulder bag for the day ahead. Digital SLR, two pairs of sunnies, lipstick, SPF 30, and a couple protein bars in case of emergency snacking. She selected her favourite of the two pairs of glasses and tossed them on before dutifully snapping a quick selfie and posting it to instagram.

_**And she’s off! #LastDayInParis #JeSuisTriste** _

She trotted down the stairs, her Converse slip-ons slapping against the narrow stone steps as she went. The sun outside was shining and the air was crisp, but promised warmth later on in the day. The streets were already alive and buzzing with early morning activity as she made her way to the nearby cafe she’d scoped out on her first day in the city, ordering her usual latte along with a freshly baked croissant. Now that fashion week was over she freely and happily indulging in all the bread she’d denied herself for the past month, and it seemed to taste more delicious now, though she reasoned that might have something to do with being in Paris. The walk ahead of her was about an hour straight, but she planned to break it up with stops along the way. The Pantheon was only a couple of blocks from her hotel and she took her breakfast there, sitting on the steps of the massive landmark and watching groups of tourists snap photos. From there she headed to Jardin Des Plantes, marveling at the stunning botanical gardens and snapping more photos than probably necessary until she found herself once more at the bank of the Seine. Her stomach began to grumble with hunger as she made her way across the river, and she sent an imploring message to her online following asking for nearby food recommendations. Fifteen minutes later she was checking in at La Gazzetta, a restaurant on a delightful side street, and ordering herself a glass of red wine. She scrolled through her phone, trying to ignore the fact that she hadn’t heard from Serge yet today. She supposed it was still early, just past noon now, and suppressed the urge to send a message herself. She focused instead on choosing the courses for her lunch.

By the time her main course arrived she was back on track. She pulled out the small leather bound notebook she always carried, scribbling down notes, ideas for future articles to pitch, the beginnings of a to-do list for Germany. The melancholy was lifting at last it seemed, her eyes brightening, her outlook more optimistic than it had been in days. London had been wonderful, like something out of fiction. That was, she decided, how it should remain. A wonderful memory, a fantastical story to tell over cocktails back home in Chicago. She savoured her last bite of ravioli, pushing the plate aside and taking a final sip of her wine before her waiter came over, swiftly removing her empty plate and replacing it with a small bowl of apple jasmine sorbet.

“Merci,” she said, smiling warmly at him as he nodded his head. She thought about Chicago, fast and gritty, and in stark contrast with this relaxed, European way of being. She truly loved the change of pace, and wondered if it would get boring after time. She wondered if anyone could _ever_ tire of Paris as she applied a coat of deep red lipstick in preparation for her next stop.

Back on the street again, Anna began walking towards her final destination, stopping briefly for an espresso. Fifteen minutes passed and she was walking along la Roquette, her pulse quickening as the gates came into view - large, curved stone walls marking the entrance of Pere Lachaise. She had saved this particular visit for last - not wanting to to rush it. For as long as she could remember, she’d always been drawn to the darker parts of cities, cemeteries generally topping the list. This particular cemetery had been on her bucket list for years. Her teenage obsession with The Doors had first brought it to her attention, and she had longed to visit the final resting place of her cherub-faced, teen-dream, rock and roll poet. Since then, the list of people to visit had grown to include Chopin, Bizet, Proust, and one of her greatest inspirations as an adult, Oscar Wilde. She felt nervousness and excitement dance in her belly as she crossed the threshold and began walking down the main roadway, stunning mausoleums looming on either side. She paused briefly at a map of the cemetery, though she’d already planned her route extensively.

Anna weaved her way around the maze of ornate stone monuments and markers, visiting playwrights, composers, actors and actresses, writers of great works. By the time she got to Jim’s resting place she was in a dreamlike state - nostalgic, solemn, and reverent. Jim’s grave was bright with fresh-laid flowers, despite being blocked off by metal barricades. There were a few fans around, taking photos and paying respects, but Anna was thankful it seemed to be a relatively quiet day at the cemetery. She took a photo of her own, captioning it simply and sharing the moment.

_**“If they say I never loved you, you know they are a liar.” Rest in peace, my darling Lizard King.** _

She was surprised to feel the sting of tears in her eyes as she leaned against the railing, longing  to touch the cool stone that marked the singer’s grave. Something about thinking of a hero’s bones lying beneath this rock and dirt, all that was left of his genius, overwhelmed her unexpectedly. She put her phone away, suddenly feeling foolish for taking it out in the first place. She stayed there for a time, admiring flowers, photos and candles left behind, and the etchings in a nearby tree that had become in itself a tribute to him.

 _Life is so short_ , she thought to herself as she turned to walk away. It was a cliche thought, but one she found difficult to shake as she headed towards the grave of Edith Piaf. Had these people been happy? Had they done all the things they’d hoped to do? Did they have regrets?

_Regrets._

The word seemed to hang in the air around her as she stood staring down at the flowers and large stone crucifix adorning the grave. A black and white photograph of the famed french singer was affixed to the bottom right corner of the smooth marble and Anna searched her face for any clues. Surely a figure with such a dramatic life would have had many regrets. Would Anna have any when she returned to her familiar life back home in America? Would she be happy going back to her life of blank pages and deadlines which, while full of glamorous events and beautiful people, often left her feeling alone in crowded rooms?

She turned and began to walk in the direction of Oscar Wilde’s tomb, she had saved him for last. As she walked she decided she had a lot to think about on the way to Berlin, and a phone call to make.

She turned right, as her map dictated, quickening her step as the massive winged figure she recognized from photographs came into view. It was surrounded by a massive wall of plexiglass now. Once, the stone had been covered in red lipstick- tributes in kisses covering it’s surface. Similar lip-marks and notes in lipstick now covered the glass instead, easily washed away at intervals by cemetery staff.

Anna stopped suddenly, her breath catching in her throat. In front of the tomb stood a very familiar figure, with a very familiar smirk upon his very familiar face.

“How?” the word came out in a rush of breath as her brow knit in confusion. She blinked several times, expecting him to disappear, but instead, he moved towards her, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head.

“You should really reconsider how much you use twitter,” Sergio said as he wrapped his long arms around her, pulling her, stunned, against his chest. “You make yourself incredibly easy to find.”


	10. Chapter 10

Anna’s heart thudded against her rib cage as she stood stiffly with her hands still at her sides, her face pressed against the denim of Sergio’s jacket, his arms around her shoulders. The familiar smell of sandalwood and tea tree oil filled her senses and she was suddenly overcome. She threw her arms around him, pulling him tighter against her as a strangled laugh escaped her throat. She looked up at him as he chuckled.

“Did you miss me?” He squinted down at her, his green eyes glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

She nodded in response, laughing again. “How- what are you doing here?”

He smiled down at her, taking his hands from her shoulders to remove the sunglasses from her face. He tilted her face up to his and brought his lips to meet hers.

“I missed you too.”

Every feeling Anna had not dared to allow herself to acknowledge in London spilled forth in that moment, lighting up every nerve ending and flooding each of her senses as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her body melting against his. She felt dizzy as they broke apart, and laughed at the lipstick that had transferred to Serge’s lips.

“That was meant for Oscar,” she said, using her thumb to wipe the colour from his mouth.

“It hasn’t even been a week and you’re already out kissing other men?”

“Listen, Oscar and I have been involved for years. You’re the newcomer in this scenario.”

“Lucky geezer.”

Anna chuckled softly as she removed herself from his arms and turned towards the monument within it’s clear encasement. She pressed both palms on the Plexiglas and exhaled deeply.

“I lived and breathed this man’s words when I was in college,” she said. “I used to scribble my favourite quotes on the covers of my notebooks. I had to buy a second copy of  _Dorian Gray_  because I read my first one so much the pages started falling out of it.” 

“Nerd.”

She turned back to shoot Serge a glare but the corners of her mouth betrayed her, turning upward despite her best efforts. She pressed the lips to a clear spot on the glass, leaving a smudge of what was left of her lipstick behind and took a long moment to admire the massive monument that marked her favourite writer’s final resting place.

“They killed him,” she said sadly as she joined Serge again, his arm slipping around her shoulders once again.

“I thought he died of meningitis?” Serge said.

“They killed him long before that.”

 **

Anna could feel the heat of Sergio close behind her as she climbed up the small steps that lead to her hotel room. Her breath quickened just enough to match her pulse and she slowed their ascent ever so slightly. A strange mixture of fear and anticipation coursed through her, and had been since the moment she saw him standing there in the cemetery. Her nerve endings were live wires charged simply by his nearness. She was treading on dangerous ground and she knew it. The war between her common sense and carnal instinct waged on within her as they reached the door to the room and she pulled her key card from her bag. She knew what would happen on the other side of this door, but she didn’t know what would happen on the other side of the night. She was still heading to Berlin in the morning, and back to Chicago only a few days later. What then? She pushed her key into the slot and opened the door. She decided that, for tonight, she didn’t care about _what ifs_.

She had barely dropped her bag on the desk before he was on her, arms circling her waist from behind, his facial hair tickling the side of her neck as his teeth nipped at the delicate flesh there. She did nothing to contain the sigh that escaped her lips as she pressed back against him.

“Fuck Anna, I missed you.” Sergio spun her to face him, his hands moving to her face; his eyes dark and heavy with want.

“Show me how much.”


End file.
